


The Lost Boy

by Alethia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Elementary School, Fire, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Mystery, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-15
Updated: 2005-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy shrugged, not wanting to answer. It was better to change the subject, anyway, deflect attention, like Dad always said. Questions were “inconvenient.”</p>
<p>He must have been quiet for too long because Willie beat him to it. “So, you want to go exploring again?”</p>
<p>“Didn’t we already see most of it?”</p>
<p>Willie shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for years and the bushes go way back. You could hide out there and no one would ever know.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Sam’s 12 and Dean’s 16. The case in this is a real story from a real city using real quotes. The information all comes from _Unnatural Phenomena: A Guide to the Bizarre Wonders of North America_. Originally posted on LJ [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/159810.html).

Sammy bounced as he waited for Dean to pick him up. While he may not know anyone, it was nice to be able to stay in one place for a while. Or, at least, that’s what Dad had said and Sammy wasn’t going to question it. He might even be able to join the soccer team, instead of having to quit after two weeks when some stupid vampire had started attacking people like last time.

Sammy stopped bouncing after a while, looking around as all the other kids were picked up by their moms, the school slowly emptying. Dean still wasn’t here and he was supposed to pick up Sammy “immediately.”

A small sliver of worry started crawling down his spine and Sammy had to remind himself that Dad had checked it all out, had said that Turlock, California was about as safe a place as any. Dean was fine; he was probably talking to girls again.

Sammy sighed, sitting down on the curb and pulling out his homework. He might as well get it done now before Dean made fun of him or Dad told him there were more important things to do.

He was mostly through his math problems by the time he heard the car, a sound he would recognize anytime, anywhere.

Dean pulled up jerkily and Sammy had to suppress a frown. Dad wouldn’t like that.

“Hey, Sammy, you ready to get out of here?” Dean asked, like he wasn’t late.

“You were supposed to get me an hour ago,” he said, petulant, picking up his backpack and shoving everything into it. He could finish later. Maybe.

“Aww, I thought you could use some time with your friends.” Dean’s eyes did that crinkly thing and Sammy knew he was lying.

He got in the car. “What friends? We just got here.”

“And you haven’t charmed every member of your class? I’m shocked, Sammy.”

He just shrugged. “Why are you late?”

“I had some very important business after school.”

“You were talking to girls again, weren’t you?”

“Very important business,” Dean repeated, “Like, urgent.”

“It’s not like they ever say anything. All they do is smile at you.”

“And that is all it takes, bro.”

“To do what?” he asked, curious despite himself.

Dean looked over, shooting him a grin that had just recently shown up and Sammy didn’t know how to interpret. “Maybe when you’re older.”

Sammy landed a solid punch to his arm and glared. It seemed to catch Dean by surprise because he took his eyes off the road and glared. “Hey! What was that?”

“I’m not a little kid.”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately, Sammy?” Dean said, shaking his head and grinning again.

“You trusted me to back you up with that body-snatcher!” he said, feeling the flush run up his neck. He hated it when Dean got like this.

A line appeared between Dean’s eyes and he looked concerned. It was gone just as fast, though, and Dean had been doing that a lot lately, too. “That was because Dad wasn’t around. And don’t go thinking that means you can handle anything. There are things even Dad doesn’t know about.”

“So don’t treat me like I’m so stupid that you can’t even bother to explain things,” Sammy grumbled.

Dean laughed out loud at that and reached over, ruffling his hair. Sammy batted his hand away, glaring. “And don’t do that, either! I’m almost in middle school, you know!”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a big bad sixth grader. Pick on any firsties today?”

“Why would I do that?”

Dean shrugged, still amused, like Sammy was saying something funny. “I thought that’s what big kids do.”

“Maybe you,” he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve had a lot of practice picking on people younger than you.”

“Awww, Sammy, don’t be like that. You know I’m just kidding. Hey, who’d I rely on to back me up when Dad wasn’t around, huh?”

“Me.”

“That’s right. We’re a team, you and me.”

“Well, then stop treating me like a baby. You don’t always have to protect me.”

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever you say.”

***

They didn’t. They didn’t always have to protect him, he could do it himself. He _could_.

Sammy kicked at the grass as he walked into school. He was early because Dean had to be there to _study_. Like Dean ever studied.

“Hi.”

Sammy turned and saw a boy he didn’t know sitting on the edge of the planter next to the door. He seemed to be about Sammy’s age with brown eyes and sandy brown hair, but he was smiling a very crooked smile and it was the first friendly face Sammy had seen in the whole school.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here so early?” the boy asked, playing with the pocket of his raggedy old pants. Not that Sammy could complain considering he wore Dean’s old cast-offs, but there was _something_ about his clothes that struck Sammy. Not that he could figure out what it was.

“Brother had to be at school early. You?”

The other boy shrugged. “I dunno. I’m Willie.”

“Sammy.”

“You want to go play?”

Sammy shrugged. It was something to do and he’d finished his homework last night when Dad and Dean were arguing about Dean getting a job at the grocery store. “Sure.”

***

Sammy skipped out to the car. Dean was on time, at least, and he didn’t look pinched like he had in the morning.

“Dean! Guess what?”

“What’s up?”

“I made a friend! His name’s Willie.”

“Oh, yeah? Is he in your class?”

“I think he’s in one of the other classes. He was here early, too and we explored under all the big bushes at the bottom of the hill.”

“That’s great, Sammy. See, what’d I tell you? Friends in no time.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dean smiled and playfully ruffled his hair again, dodging the hand Sammy shot out.

***

“Hi, Sammy.” Willie ran up to him, the playground deserted. Dean was late. Again.

“Hi.” Sammy tried not to look too disappointed that he was sitting on the curb yet again. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the other kids didn’t always look at him as they got in their cars, if their moms didn’t do the same. Sammy hated feeling like a spectacle, different, something to be stared at.

“Your brother’s not here yet?”

“No. He’s probably studying.”

“Is he real smart?”

Sammy shrugged, not wanting to answer. He’d make fun of Dean to his face, but not to other people. That wasn’t the way they worked. It was better to change the subject, anyway, deflect attention, like Dad always said. Questions were “inconvenient.”

He must have been quiet for too long because Willie beat him to it. “So, you want to go exploring again?”

“Didn’t we already see most of it?”

Willie shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for years and the bushes go way back. You could hide out there and no one would ever know.”

That was a strange thing for a kid to say, but Sammy just shrugged again. “Okay.” They headed off toward the bushes at the top playground, walking quickly. “How do you know all about it, anyway?”

“I’ve been here a long time. There’s not much to do.”

Sammy grinned. “I like that about it.”

Willie shook his head, ducking beneath the outer branches. “I guess you like being bored.” Willie didn’t know the half of it and Sammy hid his smile as the other boy continued talking, “Me, it feels like I’ve been here _forever_.”

Trained to spot the smallest difference, a shift in color caught Sammy’s eye. “Hey, look. What’s that?” Sammy asked, walking up to a burned-out patch of branches. It looked almost targeted, a big circle where a fire had been in the middle of otherwise pristine leaves.

“I dunno. It must have caught fire.”

Sammy got closer, wanting to know more. “Look! It’s in a pattern. Isn’t that weird?” When he didn’t hear anything behind him, Sammy turned. “Willie?”

He heard a sudden rush and felt hot air behind him. Sammy spun, seeing flames spring from where it had been burned-out, like the bush was burning all over again. The flames shot out toward him and he carefully stepped back, instincts drilled in by Dad and further by Dean making his muscles tense. The fire didn’t seem to be spreading…it was just there, self-contained and Sammy was almost—entranced by it, by the way the flames seemed to dance.

Shouting snapped him out of it and he leapt out of the bush, heedless of the scratch of branches and the thick smell of smoke. He was almost free when he was yanked out, Dean looking both angry and scared, at himself or at Sammy he couldn’t tell. Great. This should be a fun night.

“Dean—I”

Dean was still pulling him away from the bushes, other people now running toward them and looking worried. “What were you thinking? Going back there alone, after school when no one was watching? Bringing attention to yourself. Sammy!”

Sammy gritted his teeth and waited a beat, just to be sure. There always was more to be scolded for. “I wasn’t alone! I had Willie with me and I’m fine. It’s just a little fire.”

“You can’t do that, Sammy! Dad’s gonna freak!” Dean grabbed his arm and steered him away as teachers and administrators watched the maintenance men using fire extinguishers to put it out. It hadn’t spread any, just stayed burning in the same place, and Sammy frowned at that. Shouldn’t it be moving? Wasn’t that what fire _did_?

Dean’s rapid breathing distracted him, though, and it wasn’t like they were walking that fast. He felt his arm tingling and tried to pull away. “Why are you holding onto me? Let go,” he said, indignant that Dean would be directing him like he was some kind of baby.

Surprisingly, Dean released him and Sammy stumbled a couple steps forward. When he righted himself Dean just looked down at him like he was trying to compact a lecture into just a look. “I’ve seen the real thing,” Sammy grumbled. “Your Dad impersonation doesn’t even come close.”

“Not that it would help any with the way you’ve been minding him lately,” Dean said, annoyed.

Sammy almost smiled at that, but decided it probably wasn’t the smartest thing when Dean was mad and Sammy smelled like smoke. He didn’t know what to say—it was true—so he didn’t say anything at all.

“Are you trying to be brave and go explore all on your own? Is this some kind of rebellion thing? Because, really, Sammy? So not impressed.”

“I told you, I wasn’t alone. I had Willie with me.”

“Yeah, well Willie must have gotten scared and run off because you were the only kid there.”

Sammy shrugged. “I didn’t mean for it to happen; it just did.”

Dean sighed, shoulders slumped, and ran a hand over his eyes. “All right. We’re gonna go home, get changed, and never breathe a word of this to Dad, you hear?”

Sammy smiled, running up to hug Dean briefly, before letting him go and turning toward the car.

“And don’t let it happen again!”

***

Dad got home later, smelling of sewer and dead leaves. He disappeared into his room of their small rented apartment and reappeared later, after showering and changing clothes. 

“So, how’s life as a Maintenance Worker?” Dean asked, feet up on the rickety coffee table and inhaling popcorn like it was going to run away from him or something. Sammy had been doing his homework, but he watched from under his lashes as they talked.

“Tiring.” Dad leaned over and caught a handful of Dean’s popcorn, laughing at Dean’s faked attempt to keep it to himself. He leaned close, though, sniffing Dean’s hair. 

“Have you been smoking?”

“Who, me?” Dean asked, wide-eyed like whenever he was trying to play especially innocent.

Dad frowned, leaning against the couch, that same line appearing between his eyes as the one that appeared between Dean’s. “Dean, we’ve talked about smoking.” That was Dad’s disappointed tone, like when Sammy had told him he wanted to play soccer instead of learning Judo.

Dean grinned, but it was the fake one. “Right. No smoking, no drinking, no drugs, no weakness. I know.”

“Nothing they can exploit,” Dad reminded gently and Dean held out his hands, like he was soothing Dad or something. 

“I was with a bunch of guys after school and some of ‘em were smoking. It wasn’t me, I swear.”

“Good. There’s already danger enough; no need to give them an opening.”

“Ten-four.” Dean tossed off a mock-salute that made Dad smile like he _never_ did with Sammy.

Dad patted Dean on the shoulder and that was enough. Sammy quietly closed his books and ducked into their room. Maybe he’d take a bath—shower, he reminded himself—early tonight.

***

“Willie! Are you all right! I didn’t see you after the fire yesterday!”

“Yeah, sorry. I don’t like fire.” Willie looked sheepish so Sammy didn’t want to push it any further.

“Me neither. But it’s all right; they put it out and no one got hurt.”

“That’s good.”

“I wonder how it started. There was nothing there and then wham! Burning.”

Willie just shrugged and shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe we should stay away from the bushes for a while.” He shoved his hands into has back pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“Yeah, you’re right. The teachers are probably watching it now anyway to make sure no one gets hurt.”

Something suddenly occurred to him: “Hey! I found the way down to the basement yesterday! You want to go down there?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and ran off. Sammy was startled by how quickly he did that, but ran after Willie when he shook it off. The kid sure was fast.

***

“Hey, Sammy, how’d you rip your pants?” Dean asked, pointing out the tear in Sammy’s jeans.

“Oh. I don’t know.” Sammy avoided looking at Dean, Dean who’d immediately know that he was lying.

Thankfully, Dean was focused on the tear and not on Sammy. “It probably caught on something on the playground. You stay right there and I’ll get some thread.”

“‘Kay.” Truthfully, he knew exactly where he’d torn it. He and Willie had been down in the basement and it had snagged on a piece of grate when a rat had startled Sammy. But he couldn’t tell Dean that because he wasn’t even supposed to be down there.

Dean came back with the little thread kit Dad had. He picked the closest color and easily started sewing it up, just like Dad had taught them to do. Dean always was better at it. Sammy’s fingers were too long and he always fumbled, had pricked himself more than once. 

Dad had frowned at that and said he needed to work harder, practice more. It could help save their lives some day. Just like every other thing he ever tried to teach them.

“You’re liking school better, huh? Made some friends?” Dean asked, glancing up at Sammy from his seat on the floor, nothing but warmth in the look.

“I guess. It’s not as bad as some of the places we’ve been. At least we have beds this time.”

Dean cracked a smile. “What, you don’t like sleeping on floors in burned-out warehouses?”

“Well, what’s not to like?” Sammy shot back sarcastically the way Dean sometimes did with Dad.

Dean laughed and finished his sewing, patting Sammy on the knee when he was done. “I’m glad you’re liking school, Sammy. You just let your big brother know if anyone’s being mean to you and I’ll straighten them out,” he said with a conspiratorial grin.

Sammy rolled his eyes, jiggling his leg on the table. “I’m the biggest kid in school and I know Judo, Dean. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m just saying, the offer’s on the table.” He quickly put away the needle and thread, fingers sliding everything perfectly into place. Sammy always messed things up, made Dad frown and lecture them about organization being the key to success.

“And besides, you don’t even get to school until everyone else is gone. You’re too busy with your girlfriend.”

“ _Girlfriends_ , Sammy. And pretty soon you’ll understand the appeal. But that’s not the point. Family’s more important, right?”

Sammy just shrugged, taken aback by the sudden seriousness in Dean’s eyes. “I guess.”

“No guessing, Sammy. Family’s all we have.” From his look Sammy knew he was trying to make a point, but this was something they were never going to agree on.

“Only because Dad never lets us have anything else,” he said truthfully, knowing just how Dean would take it and not caring.

“Sammy…”

“I don’t even know why you _want_ me to make friends. I’m just going to have to leave them.”

“I want you to be happy,” Dean said patiently and yeah, they’d had this discussion before.

“Sure, just like Dad does: as long as it fits into what you’ve already decided,” he said, hearing the bitterness in his own voice with a little surprise.

“Sammy!”

But he had kicked off the table and was already on the way to his backpack, and then to their room. The sound the door made slamming wasn’t as satisfying as some of the others they’d had, but it worked well enough.

***

Sammy sat so engrossed in his teacher’s story about the ancient Egyptians that he almost missed the small tap at the window to his right. Almost.

He looked over to see Willie’s crooked grin, like he was doing something naughty, and Sammy had to smile back. He quickly checked to make sure his teacher hadn’t noticed and he waved, mouthing ‘what are you doing?’ to the other boy.

Willie just grinned again and pointed to the teacher. A sudden silence had already pulled Sammy’s attention back and Mrs. March was looking at him disapprovingly. “Sammy, is there something outside the window that we should all see?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“No, Mrs. March.” He snuck a glance out the window, but Willie wasn’t there anymore. Or else he had ducked down.

“Then let’s pay attention to me, hmm?” she asked.

Sammy nodded and shifted in his seat, aware that the other kids were looking at him. Some were snickering.

“As I was saying, the ancient Egyptians had many gods and they wrote stories—” A gasp all around the room interrupted her as a fire bloomed along her desk. Mrs. March quickly turned, raising a hand to her heart.

“All right, everyone out. Come on now, we’ve practiced this.” She waved everyone toward the door.

Kids were streaming out and Sammy paused to look at the fire, just a beat, but the fire didn’t seem to be spreading; it crackled and burned, eating her grade book and their essays, but it didn’t seem to move beyond that.

“Sammy Winchester! Out of the room, right now!” Mrs. March said sternly. Sammy took a breath, like coming out of a daze, and tasted the smoke at the back of his throat. He ran out the door.

***

“Willie, did you see the fire?”

“I don’t like fire,” Willie said and Sammy had a weird sense of having this conversation before.

“It was just after Mrs. March caught me talking to you. You didn’t see it?”

Willie shook his head apologetically. “How’d it start?”

“I don’t know. Her desk just—caught fire.”

Willie sat on the swing, shifting the sand with his toe. The other kids were long gone and Dean was late again. Really, Sammy was starting to think that Dean had his own time and just hadn’t told Sammy about it. With Dean, well, that would make an odd sort of sense.

“Hey! Why were you out of class?”

Willie grinned, pleased with himself. “Don’t worry. The teacher didn’t miss me.”

“And what were you doing?”

“I wanted to see what you were doing. I was bored.”

“You get bored a _lot_ ,” Sammy said mildly.

“School’s boring. It’s just the same thing over and over.”

But, they learned new things every year…“I like it. It’s interesting.”

“I never was any good at school anyway,” Willie said dismissively.

“So what are you good at?”

“Exploring,” he said, straightening. “You want to go?”

Sammy glanced out to the empty street in front of the school, sighing. If his time theory of Dean were true, he probably had about twenty minutes. “Sure. But I have to be back to meet my brother. I don’t want to get in trouble like last time.”

***

Dad was late, _really_ late.

“Stop worrying,” Dean said from the couch.

“I’m not worrying.”

“You _are_. Dad’s fine.”

“You’re not even looking at me. How would you know what I’m doing?”

“Oh, please. You can’t hide anything from me, Sammy. I can _feel_ it.” Sammy flushed, knowing it was true. He really needed to get better at covering up. Dean was way too good at reading him sometimes and that would hurt him one of these days.

“You can’t,” he said stubbornly, unwilling to let Dean have the last word.

Dean tossed away his algebra book—not that he’d been reading it anyway, considering it’d been upside-down—and smirked at him. “Sammy, with the way you broadcast, people in the next _county_ will notice the second you lose your virginity.”

Intellectually, Sammy knew Dean just said that to embarrass him…and it was so annoying because it _worked_. “I do n—”

“You do. And, in this case at least, there’s no reason because Dad is fine. He just had to work late, that’s all.” Sammy hoped he imagined the tiniest hint of doubt in that last statement, but he ignored it in favor of latching on to the reassurance.

He’d thought about it, a few times, what might happen if Dad just didn’t come home, and he didn’t like the way it played out: Dean even more protective, having to quit school, having even less money.

But he didn’t think about that too often because it seemed too much like tempting whatever it was that had it in for him.

“Knock, knock,” Dad called from the door, kicking it lightly with his boot. Dean threw a grin at Sammy, as if to say, ‘See, I was right’ and quickly yanked the door open. Dad hustled by him carrying a couple of pizzas and Sprite, rushing toward the table.

“Sorry boys, but this is hot,” he said gruffly, dumping the pizzas right on top of Sammy’s math problems. Great.

“Pizza! Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“$5.99 special at John’s Place. Couldn’t pass that up, could I?”

“No way. And good timing, too, because I was about ready to eat the empty graham cracker box.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, have at it, kids.”

“Did you bring any plates?” Sammy asked, trying to extract his homework, with little success.

“Plates? What kind of Winchester needs plates?” Dad asked, winking at Dean. 

“Not me,” Dean declared, flipping open the first box, stacking three slices, and shoving them into his mouth. “Mmmph!” He gave Dad the thumb’s up and wandered back to the couch.

Dad ruffled Sammy’s hair then, grabbing a couple slices himself and following Dean.

Right.

***

He and Willie were just wandering the halls, dodging in and out of classrooms in a game that didn’t make sense to Sammy, but was fun anyway.

Sammy almost ran into Willie in the classroom at the end of the hall, Willie stopping so suddenly that Sammy had to grab onto the doorframe just to keep from a painful and highly embarrassing collision. Stupid growth spurts.

“Hey, why’d you stop?” Sammy asked, a little out of breath and examining his hand for any signs of splinters.

“This room looks familiar.”

“Well, duh, this is another sixth-grade class. You’ve probably been in here.”

“I guess.”

“Hey, whose class are you in, anyway? I never see you at lunch.” And it would be nice to have someone to sit with instead of having all the kids stare at him like he had some kind of contagious disease.

“I like to eat alone.”

“Oh, yeah? In the basement?”

Willie shrugged. “Sometimes.” He looked around again. “I like this room.” He said it like it was a revelation and Sammy stepped further in, looking more closely in case Willie was seeing something special that he wasn’t.

“I guess. It’s just a normal room, Willie, what—” But when he turned back to the door, Willie wasn’t there anymore.

Time seemed to slow as he felt _something_ , and Sammy distantly wasn’t surprised to hear a very familiar whoosh, hear crackling from above. He whipped around to find that yes, the ceiling was on fire. The flames just seemed to wave at him and he stood there, transfixed, only distantly hearing a bell go off.

Someone’s hand landed on his shoulder and he shook it off, turning to find one of the teachers he didn’t know looking from him to the ceiling.

This wasn’t good.

***

“As you may know, Mr. Winchester, there have been a number of fires around the school in the past few days.”

Dad shot Dean and him a look that said he wasn’t pleased, before turning attention back to Mr. Webber. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“All have been started around your son, with no known cause, and he’s so far been the only witness.”

Sammy leaned over to Dean and whispered: “But Willie was—”

“Shh.” Dean interrupted shortly, giving Sammy an aggravated look.

“I hope you’re not implying my son had anything to do with the fires,” Dad said firmly.

Mr. Webber looked taken aback by the way Dad said that. “Well, no offense Mr. Winchester, but if your son didn’t tell you about them, how can you be so sure?”

Dad always told them that the way you said things had power, that you had to be firm and people would believe you. That was the tone he was using. “I may not know the details, but I know my son. He would never do anything like this and unless you have some proof, we should stop right here.”

“No, we’re not accusing Sammy of anything, of course. But if he would take more care around the school, that would go a long way toward restoring our confidence. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“Of course. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“That’s all I ask. Thank you for your time.”

They shook hands and one look from Dad had them both scrambling out, Dean’s hand heavy on the back of Sammy’s neck.

Dad walked quietly to the car, not even looking at them, and annoyance started to nibble at Sammy’s stomach. Of _course_ he didn’t start the fires; why would he even think of doing that? And Dad couldn’t _believe_ Mr. Webber. He told the principal as much. So why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Fires, boys?” Dad asked after they were all in the car and driving toward home.

Dean shrugged. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning?”

“A string of fires at your brother’s school, in your brother’s presence, isn’t worth mentioning?” Sammy could see Dad’s raised eyebrow in the mirror and he stayed quiet. That was another of Dad’s tones he knew and it never meant good things.

“Well, to be fair, I only knew about the first one.”

Dad shook his head. “Irresponsible, Dean. You know it takes only one slip.” He sighed and looked at Sammy in the rearview. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t do it.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“And I wasn’t the only witness. Willie was there with me.”

“Willie?” he asked to Dean.

Dean shook his head. “I asked today before your meeting. There’s no Willie, Will, or William in any of the classes.”

“But he goes there! I see him every day,” Sammy protested. How could Dean be making that up? Of course Willie went to the school. He played with Sammy all the time.

“Ever seen anyone else talking to Willie?” Dean asked.

And—oh. Sammy thought about all the times they’d talked and not once had anyone else ever noticed Willie. It had always been the two of them.

“Firestarter?” Dean suggested.

“Pyrokinesis isn’t unheard of but it doesn’t explain that no one has seen him. Ghost?” Sammy frowned. Dean and Dad were talking like Willie was one of the evil things they hunted. But he _wasn’t_. He was his _friend_.

“If he’s a ghost there’ll be records. Hey, Sammy, you know his last name?” Dean asked, like it was just any old hunting trip. It made him hot behind his eyes.

“No. He’s not a ghost! He’s just a kid, like me,” Sammy said fiercely.

“No one’s like you, bro. And they never will be.”

***

Sammy had always liked the library. It was quiet and he could do his homework and people left him alone. This one made him uneasy, though, because he had a bad feeling about what they were going to find.

Dad had set up at one of the computers and Dean had wandered off to check the microfiche which left Sam to…do nothing. As usual.

He reluctantly got out his homework. He’d rather do that than listen to Dean whine about what he _wasn’t_ finding or endure Dad’s complete silence. But—it didn’t seem right, that they were looking into _his_ friend and he didn’t even have a say.

Time ticked by slowly and Sammy worked through math problems, read short stories, even wrote an essay about What He Wanted to Be When He Grew Up—like he had a choice. Soon he was done and Dad and Dean still weren’t back yet.

He went off in search of Dean, just to find him muttering to himself. “Rain of frogs, rain of lizards, rain of salamanders, Jesus, didn’t they have anything _better_ to write about?” Dean asked under his breath. He hadn’t seen Sammy and Sammy made sure he didn’t.

Nothing there, then.

He spotted Dad at the computers but he looked just as frustrated, so Sammy shrugged and started walking aimlessly. There weren’t many people around on a weekday evening, so Sammy just wandered in and out of the book stacks, liking the smell of age and knowledge. He’d love to check out some if Dad wouldn’t look so disappointed when it was a book on something _other_ than the supernatural.

“Whatcha doing?”

Sammy turned so quickly he almost tripped and fell over his own feet, but he caught himself on a shelf at the last minute. “Willie! What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. What about you?”

“I was looking at books. Willie!” he hissed, lowering his voice. “My dad and brother think you’re a ghost. Come tell them you’re not.”

Willie scratched his head. “But they would have to see me, right?” And that was—that was—

Sammy’s shoulders slumped. “You really are a ghost, then?” he asked, still hoping. His first friend and he wasn’t even _alive_ …

“Never really thought about it,” Willie said honestly, like it wasn’t even an issue. “It’s been a long time since someone could see me, though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Willie shrugged again. “I wanted someone to play with.”

“But where are you from? Why are you still here?”

“I grew up here. I went to the school when it was still called Madison. It was different then. People were scared of me.”

“So you did start the fires?” Sammy asked, breathless.

“I didn’t mean to do it! It was an accident. It scared me,” he almost whispered, eyes wide and face pale, and Sammy believed him. “But the others didn’t like it. My parents wouldn’t let me come home.”

“They kicked you out?” Sammy asked, disbelieving. But family was—family meant so much. How could they just kick out their child when things got hard?

“They said I was dangerous. I guess I was. Am,” he clarified.

“Can you control it? The fire?"

Willie shook his head. “No, it just starts. I don’t mean it, honest.”

“I believe you. But, Willie, you’re dead. You shouldn’t be here anymore.”

“I’ve just always been here. I don’t know why.”

“Do you remember your life?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the last thing you remember? You know, from life.”

Willie concentrated, furrowing his brow and biting his lip. “I was on a hill near school and some kids were making fun of me for being a freak,” he said slowly, like it was just filtering in. “They were being mean to me.”

“That’s it? Nothing after that?”

Willie shook his head, eyes apologetic, like he’d been some kind of disappointment and Sammy would be mad at him.

“It’s okay,” Sammy soothed. “I’m sure my dad will find out more.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you can’t just be starting fires all the time. It’s dangerous.”

Willie shook his head, angry all of the sudden. “That’s what they said, too. When they wouldn’t let me go home. That I was a hazard. I thought you were my friend, Sammy!”

“I am! But you can’t—”

“No! I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”

“Willie—”

“I said no!” he said, voice loud in the quiet of the library. Suddenly Sammy felt something over his shoulder and when he looked a small fire had started in the shelf behind him. The books were burning slowly and the fire seemed to slither its way up their spines, into the pages—

A hand yanked him back and Dad was using a fire extinguisher before Sammy even knew what happened. Dean must have come running, too, because he was out of breath and looking around wildly.

“What? He was here? Sammy?”

“He was here. He got mad at me.”

“You saw him and didn’t come find us?” Dean asked, sounding angry. Sammy nodded and watched as Dad talked with the librarian, probably smoothing things over. He was good at that.

“Well, boys, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Dad said, gathering both of them and herding them toward the exit and into the car.

“We didn’t find it, but we know the spirit’s definitely haunting Sammy now,” Dad said to them, starting the engine.

“Actually, I figured it out right before the little light show started,” Dean said, sounding cocky and pleased. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and started reading in what little light came in from the street lights.

“‘October 3rd, 1886: Willie Brough apparently sets fire to objects by his glance.’ Blah blah blah, ‘recently expelled,’ blah blah blah, ‘After Sunday’s fire Brough’s family refused to have anything to do with him, believing him to be possessed of a devil.’ Apparently he discovered all the fires and ‘cried from fright.’” Dean finished on a low note, almost understanding, in a way.

“See! I told you he didn’t want to set the fires! He said it just happens.”

“You talked to him about it?” Dad asked sharply.

“In the library, before the fire,” Sammy said, more subdued. “I wanted him to tell you he wasn’t a ghost.”

Dean looked back, almost sympathetic. “We couldn’t see him, Sammy.”

“Yeah. That’s what he said.” Sammy leaned his head back against the seat, too disappointed for words. The only person in a long time who’d taken an interest in him, wanted to play with _him_ …

Dad sighed, like this was something he shouldn’t have to go over. “This ghost is dangerous, Sammy. It’s not your friend.”

Sammy just looked down and shuffled his feet. He wanted to believe Dad, he did. But he _knew_ Willie…

“That’s all? Nothing in the obituaries?” Dad asked.

“I checked. No record of him dying. Just that lone article.”

“So, we know his name, but not what happened to him.”

“He said some kids were teasing him,” Sammy offered dully.

“You talked to him about that?” Dean questioned.

“I asked him what he remembered from his life. He said he was on a hill near school and kids were calling him a freak.”

“Bunch of kids, scared. Could have escalated,” Dean said softly.

“Maybe he got pushed, maybe he fell,” Dad said slowly. “It’s a start.”

“Think if we give him a proper burial, he’ll leave?”

“My instinct is to salt and burn the bones anyway,” Dad said.

“No! He’s not evil, he’s just stuck here!” Sammy said, desperate. He didn’t want to do—that to Willie, especially not if it was just Dad guessing, if Willie wasn’t hurting people _intentionally_.

“He could be right,” Dean spoke up, looking at their father intently. “No reason to think it’s anything other than a restless spirit.”

Dad looked at Dean and then at Sammy in the mirror. Sammy let his eyes plead, let them say what he wouldn’t speak, and Dad shook his head, like he’d lost a battle. “All right. We’ll dig up the bones and contact the Police about them.”

Sammy slumped, relieved. Dean turned to look at him and in the darkness his eyes glinted with the lights passing by, making them look soft and almost sad. But Sammy blinked and it was gone.

***

They found the bones after a lot of digging and made an anonymous tip to the Police. It was all over the news soon: Hundred-Year-Old Bones Found Behind School. Dean mailed in a copy of the news story he found in the archives and the Police seemed to put two and two together, declaring this was without a doubt Willie Brough. They reburied him in the town cemetery. Sammy wanted to go to the ceremony, to say goodbye to his friend and their adventures together, even if they did end up in property damage; Dad wouldn’t let him, saying it would look odd for a new family to take any notice of something that happened a hundred years ago.

But Dad did say Sammy could join the soccer team, so long as he continued with the martial arts and other lessons. It was clear that they’d be leaving, though. People were too interested in Sammy, the teachers joining in with the students in eyeing him like he was some kind of freak. Dad and Dean only got that people were watching them and made plans to leave as soon as they had enough money saved. They didn’t notice the rest, either that or they didn’t care that Sammy was having a hard time at school. That was this life, in the end.

Sammy didn’t join the soccer team after all.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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